Page 8 of The Final Draft

I deliver the plates, and after a round of heartfelt thank yous, they quickly devour their food. I’m still making my plate, and Jetsy returns to the kitchen.

“Whatcha need?”

“That was the best chicken parm I’ve ever had, and that includes here in Little Italy. Can I have some more, please?” He’s already finished. Did he inhale it?

“Sure.” I beam at him. I love it when people enjoy my cooking. “More spaghetti?”

“No ma’am. Just the chicken.” I quirk my eyebrow at him. Ma’am? While I’m all about manners and politeness, I’m twenty-seven and not old enough to be a ma’am. I feel old when the players call me ma’am. Then again. Is he even twenty-one yet? He blushes under my scrutiny.

“Anyone else need anything before I sit down and join you?” That’s always been the rule. Once I sit down, they are on their own.

Various forms of no thank yous come from the dining area. I grab my plate, extra cheese, and join the boys. Jetsy is behind me to pull out my chair. This boy is adorable. I make a mental note to include manners and charm as traits for my character.

With seconds and thirds devoured, everyone's full. Then the banter really kicks in. Laughter ensues, and I do my best to keep up with all the inside jokes. It’s one of my favorite things about hockey players. I’ve witnessed hours upon hours of relentless teasing using their unique hockey slang. The comradery fills my heart. It reminds me of my Atlanta home, but maybe it’s the people, not the place, that I truly miss.

My phone buzzes, and Harvard snatches it up. Yep, reminds me of home. It’s taken one meal and assurances I’m not involved with Zac, and I’m practically the team mascot now. New city. New team. Same result.

“Gentlemen, a new player has entered the game,” he announces.

“Give me my phone,” I say with gritted teeth. I grab for it, but he keeps it out of reach. Defeated, I slump in my chair, cross my arms, and put a pout on my face. I’ve played this game too many times and never win. These guys, with their long arms and relentless spirit for teasing, never work out well for me.

I look to Jetsy for some help. He’s the polite one, but the twinkle in his eye says I’m done for. “Who is it?”

My phone gets tossed to Zac. “Julian Decker?” He cocks his head to the side, questioning me.

“Isn’t he some billionaire, playboy, sports agent that dated that pop star?” Harvard asks with a grin.

“Yup,” Mac adds, wiggling his eyebrows and making kissing sounds.

“And Chance Fuller’s best friend,” Zac adds sternly, all boyish charm gone. He’s staring at me like I’m coming at him with a penalty shot.

“Wasn’t there a thing with him and that princess from Sweden?” Harvard asks, like he’s reporting on TMZ.

“And Lawson is Chance’s roommate,” Zac says to me like I don’t know that. What’s he getting at?

“You sure keep up with gossip,” Jetsy says to Harvard. Exactly what I was thinking. “But I remember something about that.” Jetsy is smiling while he pulls out his phone, probably looking up Julian’s Wikipedia page.

“I think she was a hockey player’s cousin,” Mac says.

“Why is Decker texting you, CJ?” All playfulness has left his voice, and he’s in full protector mode. I know that tone becauseLawson is the over-protective world champion. He could give master lessons to helicopter parents.

The other three quiet down and wait, all eyes on me. This text and Zac’s serious tone sucked all the joviality from the room. Even Noodle comes and sits beside me to investigate what’s going on.

My emotions swirl with annoyance and excitement, each fighting for dominance. Now doubt and curiosity tag in. I don’t know how to feel, but I certainly don’t want to sort it out in front of this crew. I bite my bottom lip while I consider how to respond. Hearing his history, I’m asking myself the same thing. Why is Julian Decker texting me? Looks like curiosity and excitement are winning the emotional wrestling match.

“I’m friends with his sister, and we bumped into each other earlier today.” I shrug like that explains everything. And I wish it did. But I’m not sure it does. Pop stars? Actual princesses? Me? One of these things is not like the other. But then again, he asked me to dinner tonight. I’m intrigued. For my book research, of course.

I act cool so I can get my phone back, eager to see what he wants. In reality, I want to grab it, run to my room, lock the door, and scream into my pillow like a sixteen-year-old girl. But I don’t. I take a calming breath, hold my hand out, and wait for Zac to give me the phone. I try to return his stern face, but unfortunately, it’s not on my list of expressions. He’s reluctant, but he sets it on the table next to me. Not in my hand.

“Be careful, Harper.” Using my name alerts me to his level of concern. Message received.

Zac’s warning can’t dim my excitement. I’m practically giddy. Between tonight’s hockey player inspiration and Julian Decker, my male main character is taking shape. I’m ready to bring Gavin Snow, star NHL forward, to life. He’s an incredibly sexy, oozing-with-charm rogue, with a sordid dating past who scoreson and off the ice. I’m falling in love with my book boyfriend already.

CHAPTER

SIX

JULIAN

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